“She knows it all,” said Braye. “I never saw such an effect of old head on young shoulders in my life. But what a funny way to treat her.”
“She’s a spy,” declared Eve, “that’s what she is, a spy! With her silent, gliding ways, and her sly, soft voice! I hate her!”
“Now, now, Evie, don’t be unjust!” and Braye smiled at her. “She is a bit your style and temperament, but don’t be jealous!”
“Nonsense!” and Eve laughed back at him, “why, she isn’t a bit like me! She has black hair and eyes——”
“I didn’t notice,” said Braye, “but she impressed me as being like you in lines and motions.”
“A pocket edition,” laughed Tracy. “Miss Carnforth would make two of that little shrimp, and Miss Carnforth is a sylph, herself.”
The party broke up into smaller groups, and Braye and Norma sauntered off for their usual afternoon stroll.
Eve watched them go, her eyes moodily staring.
“Won’t I do?” said Tracy’s quiet voice, and Eve pulled herself together and smiled at him.
“You’re the one I want most,” she declared gaily, unwilling to be thought disappointed. “Let’s walk down by the lake.”